what's a little history (between you and I)
by Tarafina
Summary: (au) Felicity Smoak (formerly Merlyn) returns to Starling City in the wake of The Undertaking when her brother Tommy is injured and soon finds her world turned completely upside down.


**title**: what's a little history (between you and I)**  
>category<strong>: arrow  
><strong>genre<strong>: romance  
><strong>ship<strong>: felicity/oliver, felicity & tommy (family)  
><strong>rating<strong>: teen  
><strong>prompt<strong>: Olicity:AU Tommy lives Felicity Smoak (once Merlyn) has returned to care for her brother Tommy (background Malcolm sent her away as a child b/c she reminded him of his late wife) after the collapse of the Glades. Meets Oliver...  
><strong>word count<strong>: 1,510  
><strong>summary<strong>: (au) Felicity Smoak (formerly Merlyn) returns to Starling City in the wake of The Undertaking when her brother Tommy is injured and soon finds her world turned completely upside down.

_**what's a little history (between you and I)**_  
>-11-

Felicity paced the length of the hallway, chewing on her thumbnail, and subsequently spitting out the flakes of orange nail polish that came off as she did.

Her brother, her big brother, was in the hospital, because he was dumb and noble and he had a stupidly big heart. She swiped quickly at a tear that tripped down her cheek and paced a little faster. She wanted to blame Laurel. Gorgeous Laurel who had all the boys tripping over themselves for any scrap of her attention. It was no surprise that Tommy was like all the rest. Enough so that he went running into a collapsing building to save her life. But she couldn't. It wasn't Laurel's fault. God, it wasn't. It was her father's. Her tears tripled then.

When was the last time she saw her father, the almighty Malcolm Merlyn? So fierce and strong that he ran off, leaving his two children defenseless. And oh, not even the tip of that ice berg, because as soon as Felicity started to look anything like her mother, she was shipped off to boarding school faster than she could ask for a return on what little puberty had given her.

She changed her name, taking on her mother's maiden name, when she was sixteen. Her father didn't fight it. He signed the papers like she wanted him to and she agreed not to come home for Christmas break. She was celebrating Hanukkah now anyway, like her mother's side of the family did.

But Tommy visited. He called and emailed and popped up out of nowhere, usually during exam times, because he could and he felt like it and he missed her. "I miss you, Flea," he'd tell her as he plopped down on her bed, digging her diary out from under her pillow and thumbing through it like it was totally okay and not at all a breach of her privacy. So she would hit him with a pillow and tell him she didn't have time, she had to study, but somehow she always ended up spending most of her time with her brother. Big brother, with his too big heart and his goofy smile and the best hugs a sister could ask for.

She couldn't lose him. She was five when she lost her mother and she couldn't remember much more than brown hair and blue eyes and the gentlest smile she'd ever known. And perfume. This sweet, lilac scent that Felicity found in a bottle on her mother's shelf and treasured so completely that she never used it. She brought it with her to boarding school and with her on the flight back to Starling City. It was on her hotel dresser now. When she was sad or feeling particularly lonely or when she just wanted to have a piece of home with her, she'd uncap it and take a light sniff, letting the scent calm her and take her back to a time when she was a little girl with parents who loved her and a house she could actually call home.

She loved her mother, or the image of her that she could remember. But Tommy... Tommy was her rock. He was everything to her. When she decided to stay in London after she finished boarding school, he came over and stayed with her for a whole month, helping her settle in while not so subtly trying to convince her to come home, please, come home. She visited sometimes. She went home for the summers, when Malcolm always found a way to be busy or to leave town. She'd spend months in the sun, on the heels of her brother, with Oliver Queen's arm around her neck as he gave her a noogie and called her Mini-Merlyn because he knew she hated it. Never mind that she had an insanely terrible crush on him while he thought of her as a little sister. At least he didn't treat her like he did all those other girls, desperately vying for that charming smile of his to turn her way. Merlyns, it seemed, were of the few people Oliver took seriously and treated properly. Even if she was a Smoak now.

She hadn't seen him since before he'd disappeared on a yacht and was thought to be lost at sea. She had seen her brother, who showed up on her door five and a half years ago, distraught and lost. He stayed with her in London for a whole year then, trying to piece himself back together after the loss of his best friend. Merlyns were well acquainted with grief, but they never really dealt with it the way they should. So Tommy drank and he slept around and he struggled to figure out who he was without his faithful friend beside him. And it was hard. It was hard to pick him up off the floor each day and to put him to bed, still crying and clawing at her, begging her to tell him why, why did everybody he love die on him? And it was hard to tell him she wouldn't do the same. She'd always be there. It was hard to say goodbye and send him back to Starling, all the while knowing she wasn't really welcome there, not with a dad who couldn't stand to look at her.

So, she stayed in London and made a life for herself and lived for the days that her brother just popped up out of nowhere, needing to see her and hold her and make her laugh. They Skyped and talked and knew everything there was to know about each other's lives, but there was nothing quite like being right in front of each other.

Tommy gave the best hugs, did she mention that?

She would do anything for one right now.

"Felicity?"

She whirled, her eyes wide, because she knew that voice. She just hadn't heard it in so, _so_ long.

Oliver was standing there, an arm in a sling, dried blood on the front of his dress shirt. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her from too far a distance. Like he was surprised, like he was seeing a ghost, like he was somewhere between relief and fear. And then he was moving, eating up the space between them with his feet, and she followed suit until they met in the middle. She hadn't cried, not really, a few stray tears that she quickly dashed away as she tried to hold herself together. But then Oliver was there and he was wrapping his one good arm around her and she was sobbing against his chest, gripping his shirt in her fists as she sucked in gulping breaths of air and shook against him.

He shushed her, rubbing her back and sliding his hand down her ponytail, squeezing his arm around her at random.

Oliver used to be the second best hug giver, but there was something to be said about having both arms at a time like this. The other was strapped to his chest and she only now worried that she was hurting him, pressed as tightly to him as she was. But when she tried to pull back, he wouldn't let her, only holding on tighter.

"Tommy's a fighter. He'll get through this."

She nodded, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against him. "Promise me?"

His arm tightened around her and he ducked his head down to rest against hers. "He's going to need you, huh, Mini-Merlyn? So you're going to have to stick around…"

She shook her head. "My dad… I don't even know what to ask first. Does he know or has he been arrested? I…"

He stiffened for a moment. "You haven't heard?"

She went still then and raised her head. "Heard what?"

He swallowed thickly and looked down at her, searching her eyes. "Malcolm's dead, Felicity. He was killed."

Her brow furrowed tightly. "W-What?"

"The Hood, the…" His voice gave up for a moment. "I'm sure Tommy's told you about him?"

She nodded jerkily. "Yeah, some—some Robin Hood type. Personally, I think archery looks ridiculous, but to each their own, I guess."

His mouth curled faintly, but faded far quicker. "Your father was… He… He built this machine, this… It caused the quake that brought down the Glades. He was the Dark Archer. It was complicated. But he and the Hood, they fought… and your father was killed."

She stared up at him blankly, a hollow feeling settling in her chest. "He's dead," she whispered.

He nodded, his hand finding and squeezing her shoulder. "I'm—I'm so sorry."

Her gaze fell, focusing on his shirt, on the dried bloom of blood on his previously pristine white shirt. "Tommy's all I have left."

Oliver stroked her hair back from her face and cradled her head, pulling her back in and hugging her. "He'll be okay." He kissed the top of her head. "He will."

She was pretty sure he was saying it half to convince himself.

* * *

><p><strong>author's note<strong>: _I have more of this 'verse written, if anyone's interested...?_

_Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review! They're my lifeblood._

- **Lee | Fina**


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